Though there is any number of plausible explanations why the lead vocalist and songwriter for a band might feel the need to make music outside the group dynamic, it’s a short list of bands that have survived very long in such a scenario. Rod Stewart, Brian Eno, Bjork – there’s a long list of artists whose first solo releases provided the writing on the wall for a band whose demise was imminent. After all, why would a songwriter need to make a solo album if he or she didn’t feel the need to express something that couldn’t be satisfactorily said within that dynamic? With Candylion, Gruff Rhys seems exceptionally comfortable riding solo.

As the lead vocalist and songwriter of Super Furry Animals, one the U.K.’s most innovative and imaginative bands over the last 10 years, Rhys has been rightly championed as a genius and forward-thinking auteur, seamlessly blending prog rock, punk, pop and electronic music over their 13-year existence. But with 2005’s Love Kraft, a commercially and critically disappointing release that ended the band’s tenure with Sony, Rhys showed the first signs of being a bit disinterested in his band. Just six months earlier he released his first solo album, the Welsh-language Yr Atal Genhedlaeth, a one-man affair with songs that were a good deal more interesting than most anything on his band’s release. But as much as that first solo release seemed a bit tentative, more of a no-frills experiment in clearing out a backlog of leftover songs, Candylion sounds like the work of a songwriter who is intent on starting over, creating songs that bristle with the same homemade energy but with considerably more polish. This is the sound of an artist content to be calling all the shots.

Opening with nearly a minute of vintage ‘70s synth cheese and a spoken
word welcome, “This is Just the Beginning” provides a light-hearted
entrée to the album, leading into the cheery title track. With jingling
glockenspiel, simple strums, sighing strings and summery harmonies,
“Candylion” is pure pop fluff, rather clumsily using the story of a
lion who lives in a kingdom of candy to illustrate the dichotomy
between the pleasurable and the painful. It’s not a bad song, but such
a cloying sentiment is beneath an artist of his insight and off-center
wit. And therein lie many of the shortcomings of Gruff Rhys as a solo
artist; he simply seems content not to say much of anything.

Of course, it’s not fair to criticize one man’s vision for being
narrower in scope than his work within a band a context, but Candylion
is startling mostly for how tame it sounds. Despite its Brazilian
undertones and playful synths, “Gyrru Gyrru Gyrru” manages to be both
slight and obnoxious, its repeated titular refrain growing tiresome by
the end. Similarly unremarkable are commonplace love ballads such as
the vanilla coffee shop pop of “Beacon in the Darkness” and the dreamy
melancholy of “Ffrwydriad Yn Y Ffurfafen.”

That said, it’s obvious Rhys has spent a lot of time on these songs,
and Candylion is not without a few outstanding moments. Wrapping a
sputtering gallop in gooey strings and cooing female backing vocals,
“Lonesome Words” exudes a desolate calm, the narrator lost in the
windblown desperation of his own mind. The gurgling electronics and
French pop lilt of “Painting People Blue” is similarly imaginative, its
breezy cadence and stoic melody becoming more interesting with each
listen. Even better, the psych-pop sing-along of “The Court of King
Arthur” manages to be one of the few moments where Rhys’ insatiable
taste for ear candy is warranted. The majority of the album is simply
nice enough, with even its best moments simply lacking the vision and
audacity that make Super Furry Animals albums so enduring.

Add it up, and despite its obvious craftsmanship, Candylion is just an
average release from an exceptional talent. The careful arrangements,
the smart production, the accessible melodies – it’s obvious Rhys is
taking his solo gig seriously. But artists like Rhys usually use solo
albums to indulge their most unconventional impulses, not make also-ran
pop albums that invite unfavorable comparisons to their other work, and
that’s why Candylion simply fails to be much more than a pleasant
curiosity. Given his track record, it’s obvious Rhys could do some
really interesting things on his own. Until he decides to, let’s hope
he doesn’t get too used to riding alone.

Sound
Favoring bold textures and retro production, Candylion doesn’t skimp on
sonic detail. From warm multi-tracked vocals to fuzzy bass lines and
vintage synths, the album has a rich and consistent tone that serves
the mood of the songs well. Even so, Rhys could have taken a few more
risks, and the general paucity of electronic instruments or modern
studio trickery ends up making the album sound more staid than it would
otherwise. All in all, it’s just one more element that keeps the album
from being as engaging as it should be.